Some would think the threesome I had this weekend is worth posting about. In some ways it is. Just not the sexy ways. I’m still a bit shaken by the whole experience because it happened with no discussion first. Continue reading Menage Blah
Category Archives: Daily Life
My Daily Practice
The regularity of a job has been the greatest gift to my sanity recently. The stress I’m managing due to the job itself is minimal compared to the heavy existential angst I put myself through to get here. And what’s better, the job offers 4 sessions of free counseling through a 3rd party. I got stressed out and started crying in front of my boss. Fortunately, I anticipated it and asked to talk in private. I am excited about Labor Day weekend and I am irrationally worried about having the energy to be happy that weekend. Continue reading My Daily Practice
Wings
I’ve been able to feel my wings since I was 18. That’s when I took yoga and started feeling my body for the first time. When it came time to open the back of my chest I discovered invisible appendages. There are symmetrical spots on my back where I can sense my aura extending beyond my physical body. What could it be, if not wings? At first I could just stretch them. Like a chick fresh from the egg, I simply tensed my muscles for the sensation of knowing they are there. After a while, I developed more dexterity. Nowadays, I can take flight if the circumstances are right. Continue reading Wings
Rooms, Mates
In college I was paired with a girl named Pashawnda. She is a black woman from Pittsburgh or at least was in 1999. These days it’s not safe to assume anyone is who they used to be. Anyway, we were paired together ironically on the 3rd floor of a dorm that was built at the turn of last century for rich little girls and their personal servants. The top floor is where the help lived. The irony is that servant girls went to Bryn Mawr but don’t point that out in their presence. As a group, feminists can be a bit prickly. Continue reading Rooms, Mates
Jaws
I am reading the book. An impulse buy in March. I need things to read at work because cell phones are too distracting. I need the surface engagement that’s only found in re-reading the same sentence twice. A metaphysical stutter between the times I talk to disembodied guests. Discovering new worlds with punctuated character studies. A writer’s paradise. I have found the patent office I need to uncover genius. Now I just have to survive. Continue reading Jaws
The Rapy
Talking to someone compassionate and intelligent is usually a thing I reserve for the pillow. I don’t open up easily. Most people only care about themselves so I don’t bother anyone with my problems. Up until Dr. Pate, I’m not sure anyone ever asked. When I finally sat down for serious therapy as an adult, self awareness was still a fresh concept. A healthy mixture of loving support and yoga started waking me up. I discovered a deep, personal pain and sought treatment for the first time in years. Accepting help is the first step to getting better, so I chose my doctor on the recommendation of a close friend. Continue reading The Rapy
Good Books
There’s a hot bartender that I would never have the nerve to talk to. She holds up a Murakami book and I lose all pretense. Norwegian Wood was a beautiful way to discover someone else’s pain. After that, I know my pain is real and I’m not the only person that feels it. One of my first baby steps toward seeing the unity within us. Or something. Continue reading Good Books
Who Gives A Shit
Upon empirical first glance, my generation cares more about Facebook than they should. Not news, except for the fact most people still deny their level of actual investment. An adequate metaphor for any of the online fads that permeate every facet of our culture, Facebook represents a desire for connection to something greater than our daily lives. Suppose that’s something to expect from the amount of media programming we received during formative years. That’s when communications with the machines really started, if you see where I’m coming from. Empathy in binary. Continue reading Who Gives A Shit
Practice Makes Progress
I can now sing almost all of the Silent All These Years melody to myself whenever I want to. That doesn’t mean it sounds good. However, I can keep the same-ish key the whole time and not lose track of where I am. That’s definite progress. It’s the funniest thing. For the longest time I couldn’t carry a note with or without music playing. My karaoke performance is on par with Elaine’s dancing. I can’t seem to hear and sing at the same time. Until now. There is one song I can sing in the shower and have since the movie came out – Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid. Formative on so many levels. Continue reading Practice Makes Progress